


A Beast Upon His Throne

by TearoomSaloon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Emperor Kylo Ren, Empress Rey, F/M, Forced Marriage, Scar kink abound, Vignettes, no chronological order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-12-24 11:50:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 15,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12012114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/TearoomSaloon
Summary: Their marriage is not easy, nor was it loving at the start. Taken from the gutters of a sand-burnt land, she has gone from a desert rat to the most important woman in the galaxy. Adjusting is tough, for both her and her husband.Renperor vignette collection.





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> So, this has been an open project for about a year now. Everything I'll post here has already been posted to my tumblr; it's just way easier to read in this format.
> 
>  
> 
> **So we are clear, I am not CURRENTLY taking prompts for this; these have all been previously filled.**
> 
>  
> 
> There are going to be inconsistencies and plot holes. Think of it as a flexible AU.
> 
> One huge shoutout to foxesdance for the drabble that inspired this monster of a Kylo.

His is not like the tidal wave, but the high tide, ebbing in softly with the darkness. As he walks, his robes trail behind, long and rippling like ocean waves. He is destructive, but he can be a shelter if he needs. His temperament is tempestuous and those around him say he hasn’t changed a day from his wicked childhood.

His yellow eyes refract light in the darkness and his sharp teeth glint through snarls in his anger. He is tall and broad and positively wild, difficult to placate when hampered or disrespected. He barely notices when people call him by his title, call him  _Emperor_. He’s too used to being the prince, locked away in the tower for the safety of others.

“Kylo.”

He’ll always turn to his name, usually with a snap in his jaw. But not for her. No hissing for her.

He looks up from his desk, datapads and files strewn about, littering every flat available surface. His expression, he knows, is grim, but his mind is abuzz. And from the moment he hears her voice, the gnashing of his mental frustration quiets.

“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow, flinching when she is startled by his tone.

“I was wondering if you’d like me to stay in your chambers tonight? Otherwise I’ll go off to sleep and leave you be.”

She is the product of a forced marriage. A young woman treated like bantha in the face of a desert sun, her body meant to be her meal ticket. But she is kind-hearted despite her conditions and her will is indomitable. Once a presence that evoked indifference, he has grown to love her darkly. As much as a monster could love.

He holds his hand out to her, beckons her closer. Poor thing; she’s still frightened of him in some instances. He has moods he cannot control, and he feels shameful when she sees the creatures he can become. Feels guilty that he scares her so.

Standing at his full height, he is a mountain above her, broad and strong. His fingers itch for her satin-smooth skin, and he tucks a curl behind her ear, a taste to whet his want. “Then, darling, I believe I will follow you to bed.”

He follows where she leads, knuckles tickling against hers, trickling like a river. She never likes him to be behind her, doesn’t trust him well enough, so he walks beside, hovering close enough to feel her body heat. 

He strips slowly when they enter his bedroom, peels clothes from his body as she crawls into his bed, nesting down in the center. He slides in when he’s down to his undergarments, chases her from the middle with the circle of his arms and the strength of a kiss pressed to her forehead. She sighs in content when she bundles closer to his heart, to her proper place against his chest. She may be wary of him, but she carries some love for him yet.

What a perfect outcome to a supposed misfortune she turned out to be.


	2. Creature Comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes are unsettling, aren't they?

His eyes have been yellow for weeks. Months. It’s been a long while since the last time he stared into the mirror to find dark brown gazing steadily back. Now instead they are aureolin; fierce and bright.

She has been shying from his sickly amber eyes, looking everywhere but at him when she addressed him. Had she been a servant or a new acquaintance, that behavior would have been acceptable. But she was his bride, arranged but still his wife, and her action was going beyond the point of manners.

“Is something the matter with my face?” he asks bluntly one night, sitting in the armchair by the bed. He has a datapad before him and he does not glance above to see her reaction.

She is under the covers, trying lamely to fall asleep. “I’m sorry?”

“You never look me in the eye when we speak. I am asking if there is something about my appearance that you find displeasing.”

“Well,” she started after a long pause, “you frighten me. I’d rather not give you cause to anger.”

“I have no intentions to cause you harm.”

“I know, but…your eyes aren’t human.”

And she is right, in a sense.

He sets the pad down and clicks off his light with a sigh. There’s no forcing her to be comfortable around him, and there’s no helping this more tonight. He slips under the duvet beside her, but not near her, careful to keep his distance. No reason to spook the woman forced to marry him more than she is already.

“Did I upset you?” Her voice is soft.

“A little, but nothing to gripe over.”

There’s a hand on his shoulder. It’s tentative and cautious, hovering just above exposed skin, unsure of what to do next. “I apologize.”

His breath stops cold. “May I face you?”

“Yes.”

He rolls over slowly and takes her in, trying to make out the planes of her face in the dim night lights. Her fingers are hesitating over his skin again. “No one’s touched me in years.”

Her hand shoots back and she tucks it under her pillow. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t known.”

“No, it…I want you to, if you want to. It feels…nice.”

Carefully, nervously, she brushes a stray lock from his cheek. “Are you sure?”

He leans into her palm, would turn his head to kiss it had he not thought it would startle her. “I’m sure.”

Her fingers grow more confident in their actions the more they brush across his body, limiting themselves to his cheek, neck, and back. They trace small patterns on him, little lines in the dusk. Before long, he finds he has crept closer, has nuzzled his way across the mattress and is only a few inches from her now. Her body heat is overwhelming, but he itches to touch her as well.

“May I…?” he says softly.

She nods. He buries his head into the hollow space under her jaw and hums, having found a sliver of peace in the night. There, in her arms, he sleeps without fear.


	3. The Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is she?

It is degrading to be here.

Bundled in thick robes and long garments to ward off the sand, he feels insulted that his presence has even been  _called_  here. Jakku is an ugly sand-filled ball, like every other desolate desert planet before it, and every after it. His mother’s family hails from Tatooine, but none look back on it with fondness. With the Hutt Empire gone, however, there have been more opportunities for smaller, more obnoxious criminal organizations to crop up like weeds, growing in the harshest of conditions.

Unkar Plutt is one of the more disagreeable of the ones he’s met. They all call him out to their wastelands, hoping to earn his favor with lavish gifts or rare contraband. He cares for none of it; Emperor of the galaxy, he has little need for such trivial offerings. He has power enough to take what he cannot buy, but he finds himself in complete disinterest here.

Plutt is, for lack of a better word, a slave trader. He collects sex slaves from all manner of species, girls with exquisite beauty and desolate eyes. He has brought his current livestock before Ren, an attempt to buy off a favor. Little stops him from killing Plutt right there, but usurping him would mean another, less agreeable crime boss would come to the forefront, and he doesn’t have time to regulate small pockets of the Western Reaches.

All of these girls look dead in the eyes. Gorgeous bodies, but absent minds. He figures they must have to distance themselves from reality to stand this; that, or they’ve been drugged. He has no want for a sex slave (could easily obtain what they offer without breaking another spirit), and he doesn’t have enough kindness in his heart to take the lot of them away from their disgusting pimp. His goal today is to wound Plutt, in either business or pride, and for that he must choose wisely.

Plutt has been carefully adjusting his position to hide some corner of the showing room. He can tell there’s a body being guarded, some girl he isn’t supposed to see. She must be special, or not meant for sale, but it would be dishonest and insulting to not bring  _all_  the girls before the emperor.

Ren brushes past the lumbering oaf, gilded robes out of place in the desert grime. Plutt predictably moves out of the way, albeit reluctantly. The girl he hides is a rat, or at least, has been made to look as such. Unlike the other girls she isn’t bare-breasted, instead covered by a rough brown cloak. Her eyes are glazed over and she looks a little sick, perhaps from being drugged (he’s certain  _she_  is drugged, even if the others are not).

“I’ll take her.”

“Your Imperial Majesty, surely you don’t want  _her_ —”

“Is she diseased?”

“No, but—”

“Deformed?”

“ _No—”_

 _“_ Then I’ll take her.” He nods to his Grand Advisor. “Be sure Mr. Plutt is… _compensated_ , for his generous donation.”

He drags the girl to her feet, finding she has little coordination to speak of. Intoxicated, perhaps, or dulled with spice. Whichever, she proves to be difficult to move. He takes her carefully from the showing house, careful not to touch her too closely. Aboard his ship, he passes her along to the medic, instructing her to be examined and woken from whatever stupor she’s under. No sense in keeping one if she’ll be mute as a stone wall.

They are halfway back to Coruscant when she is returned to him, wide-eyed and fearful. They’ve draped her in blankets and she clutches them violently to her chest. He gives her a once-over. With a clean-face, she doesn’t seem as hideous, but she’s nothing spectacular, either.

“What are you called?” he asks, rising from his seat.

“Rey.”

“Do you know who I am?”

The more she studies him, the more fearful she grows. “Yes.”

“I have taken you from Plutt, but understand it is not out of charity. I detest him and he seemed fond of you, so my intent is to marry you to spite him.”

She takes this in, wrapping the blankets tighter. “Shouldn’t you marry out of love, sir?”

“Love is a useless, weak concept and I care not for it. However, I won’t hold you to any vows of commitment.”

“Will I…owe you things, sir?”

“No.” He shudders at the thought. “You will be my Empress Consort, and you will not be required to interact with me except at social events. You will be given nearly all you ask for, and you will leave me alone, understood?”

She nods.

He dismisses her, and she scrambles away like a frightened doe. Funny. He wasn’t aware his tyrannical nature carried so far as the whores on Jakku. News spreads quickly, he supposes.


	4. Bedspace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one comes from a prompt I butchered: sharing a bed.

The hotel gets booked all wrong.

They’re married, sure, but it’s little more than a slip of paper and a set of bland, mundane rings. There are no kisses shared, there’s no love to speak of; theirs is not a marriage bed of physical intimacy, but they’ve booked the hotel room all wrong.

He is attending a conference on one of the Empire’s well-respected worlds and his bride in law only is expected to appear with him. There’s only one bedroom in this master suite. One bathroom. There is a large living area, but he’s not about to sacrifice sleep before he has to make a speech, and he sure as hell will not ask her to move to the couch; that would be unbelievably rude.

Instead, as the night is beyond late and he’d rather not cause a fuss, he sighs and turns to her. “Which side do you want?”

“I can take the sofa.”

“The bed is more comfortable and your back is still healing. Don’t be silly.”

She is cautious when she eyes him, nervous still as she lays her trunk on the right side of the enormous bed. He simply nods and exits the room in favor of the table in the dining area, taking up space to work on a financial proposal.

He waits for her to fall asleep before reentering the bedroom. She is softly and soundly out in an hour and a half, a datapad curled in her fingers. She’s been desperately attempting to locate any trace of her family that remains, but…he hasn’t the heart to tell her what happened. She’ll find it herself eventually. With gentle hands, he takes the datapad from her and lays it on the nightstand. She looks so calm like this. He brushes back a strand of her hair before crossing to his side and slipping soundly in.

…He wishes he’d known she were attracted to heat like a magnet.

It’s the middle of the night when he wakes again, her body pressed close to his. She’s out like a switch and her breathing is heavy. She sighs in her sleep and it…there’s an emotion coming to the forefront of his mind, and it’s not a negative one. It almost makes him want to…

Cautiously, almost reluctantly, he drapes an arm over her waist. When she doesn’t wake, he lets out a sigh of relief. He hasn’t touched someone in so long. No one has touched him in an equally fair amount of time, but this feels like a one-way action. She’s…warm. And soft. And she smells quite nice.

With a small hum, he closes his yellow eyes to sleep, hoping to wake before she does to prevent any awkwardness in the morning. She doesn’t have to know; at least, not yet.


	5. A Kiss, My Lord

Her heart is beating a million thumps a second. Her vision is unsteady and everything sounds as if it were underwater. She feels it first through the Force before the messenger arrives. There’s been a mistake in the plans, some glaring error has been overlooked. It sends her into a panic.

They have been married a year now, she and the Emperor. She keeps hoping he’ll open to her more, but he stays cold as granite and sneers at most attempts at conversation. Their marriage is nothing but a sham, but she cannot help but feel…nervous for him. Worried. Anxious. He’d gone away on regular business and now she was receiving word that his convoy had been targeted.

She waits in his quarters for more news. They smell of him—rich woods and light citrus—and it calms her somewhat. Not enough; she’s still twitchy and angry that she can do nothing to help the situation. She hates sitting and waiting.

After an hour—two hours, three, she isn’t sure—the doors to his bedroom open and she sees his exasperated expression before she catches sight of the hideous scar.

It mars his face, splitting it in half with a great red trench, too wide and angry to be a line. She doesn’t cry frequently, and never without reason, but she notices when the pinprick irritation begins behind her eyelids. He’d been gravely injured based on the pattern and fall of the scar. There hadn’t been a thing she could have done, lightyears away from his side…

She rises, moving wordlessly to him. There’s no conversation between them, no words uttered. She brushes his cheek with the back of her hand and takes a painful hope in the way he presses against her. He’s tired, she can tell. So tired. He doesn’t want her to see him like this.  _What nonsense_. 

Carefully, she steps up onto her tiptoes and presses a featherlight kiss to his mouth. His lips are soft. She wasn’t sure she expected anything else. Expected to taste blood or metal. He bows his head and she tenses, unsure if she’d done something wrong. They’ve never kissed. They’ve only touched briefly and never more than a casual hold. She’s slept beside him, but—

The breath is squeezed from her ribs when he yanks her close and all but devours her lips. His hold is bone crushing and she can barely replicate it to its full affect.

“I’m here,” she whispers when he lets her go. “Kylo, I’m here.”

He picks her up, earning a squeak from her surprise. Seated on the bed, she settles into his lap and presses herself into his neck, arms wrapped closely. It’s a struggle to breathe.

“What happened?”

“I got hurt, exactly how it looks.” His arms are fast around her, stroking little trails up her back. “It’s hideous, right?”

“It doesn’t matter; you’re safe.”

He leans back, taking her with him as he falls to the mattress. They are coiled together now, limbs lost and bodies woven so tightly it’s difficult to tell what belongs to whom. And he kisses her. Softly at first, demanding after. Her kisses are equally questioning, needing to know and feel that he’s all right. A facial scar doesn’t matter. He’s still in one piece and that’s all she needs.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” he asks when she traces the now-closed wound, fingers light on his skin.

“Who am I to be disturbed by a physical deformity?” She holds him closer, leans further into his kiss. “May I stay with you tonight?”

He moves his head from her reach and buries his face in her throat, presses his lips to the vulnerable skin that lies below her jaw. “You needn’t ask.” His fingers find hers and she accepts his hands readily. “Please, I want you to stay in my arms.”


	6. Your Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: How would one go around to get into the Emperor Kylo's graces or it simply cannot be? If so can one get into Rey's graces? (or would that be a death sentence at the hands of the angry emperor?)

“Looks like you have an admirer.” Rey smiles between glances across the room. Her husband stiffens beside her and she knows his gaze has gone cold.

“Hardly worth anything.” His voice is flat but his agitation is hot.

She takes his hand, watching his yellow-flamed stare burn into the woman across the room. She doesn’t show him off on her arm much, but this is a good time to take leave. Before the Emperor murders a guest with his mind.

“Take some pride,” she says softly. “You’re desirable, no matter how cold you come off.” She presses closer to him, to whisper against his skin. “I take it as a compliment, my husband lusted after by others of high rank.”

His nose wrinkles. “You are truly a strange breed.”

She laughs and the sounds is soft like bells.

* * *

It is a week later that he drags her off fuming from the middle of a gala. He has fangs for teeth and a snarl stuck in his lungs, fingers like iron talons on her wrists.

“ _Kylo_ ,” she warns, trying to pull from him.

“That man,” he starts, voice shaking, “he  _touched_  you.”

“So he touched my shoulder. It’s no big deal.”

“It  _is!_ ” It is a growl, a roar. “You are  _mine_  to love…right?” His voice dips with his head. “You don’t want to leave me, do you?”

“Of  _course_  not.” He gets so possessive sometimes, but he always reverts to a hurt, lost state. She reaches her hands to his scalp and he ducks into her shoulder. “We took vows, however meaningless they were at the time. I…think they mean more now. At least, to me they do.”

The noise from his throat is like a purr and she knows they have to get out of there soon, before his patience disappears. Touching his cheek makes him duck to kiss her, a quick, sweet touch turning intimate in minutes.

His mood lightens, he gives her a small grin, and he takes her hands. It’s time to be elsewhere with her overly jealous husband, somewhere he can forget his anger of her being touched or lusted after. It shouldn’t have mattered (she was for him, and him alone), but heads would roll if she weren’t careful to attend his selfish needs.

“The things I’ll do to you,” he mutters as they take their leave. It’s gruff and carries a forceful promise.

She smirks and squeezes his hand, sometimes grateful for jealous men. “I can’t wait.”


	7. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Renperor reacting/reflecting on his mother with Rey

Parents weren’t something they spoke about often. Hers had vanished from a desolate, sun-filled planet. Dead or alive, she didn't know and she didn't want to dwell. His were both long-dead, ripped from his young adulthood by coup.

She sat with her back to the footboard, across from him. He had his lamp switched on though the sun had risen already, casting warm light into the room. He was frustrated, as he was every year this day came around. Moody and unpredictable, she knew better than to tease him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

It was after dinner when he opened up just a little. 9:21 in the evening, the exact minute all those years ago when the messenger arrived. 

“It’s been almost twelve years.” He was standing at one of the windows, the bright lights of Coruscant outlining his dark robes. She stood at the door having just walked in, now feeling like an intruder to a private moment of grief.

“Does it hurt less?” She approached cautiously, fearing one of his moods.  To make peace, she offered him the warm cup of chocolate in her hands.

“Never. The feeling of helplessness expands.” He didn’t turn to her, eyes fixed on the outside buzz. “I was just barely fourteen. They’d been assassinated off-world and there was nothing I could have done. That war to follow was quickly over, but it didn’t bring either of them back.”

This was more weakness than she’d ever seen him display. “I remember hearing about it,” she said softly, unsure if she should take his hand for comfort. She had been eight when it happened, still too young to fully grasp the concept of death, too detached from the rest of the galaxy to know. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about now.”

“What were they like?”

He sighed and looked down through the glass, down into the bowels of the city. “My father was quick-witted and unable to sit still for more than a few months at a time. My mother was soft but stern. Commanding. She sat on that throne like she was born for greatness, and she proved she was.”

Leia, daughter of Vader. She’d been quite a force during her reign. Rey had read about her, had become very familiar with her late mother-in-law’s successes and defeats. She was more diplomatic than her father and son, but there was no shortage of her temper. She hoped they would have gotten on well, but there wasn’t a way to know.

“Every day, I try to be a little more like her. Take a little bit more from her style of rule, her policies. Perhaps one day I’ll be as strong as she.”

She took his hand now, moved in closer to his side. There was so much more to the man she married than he showed her, whole strings of dreams and wishes and feelings. Hopefully one day he’d open all the way up. “I think she’d be proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he said and kissed her brow. “That means more to me thank I can express.”


	8. Nerves and Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: How about one where Rey has an anxiety attack about being worthy of being Empress or something like that and Ren calms her down?

It’s always worse in the mornings.

They do not share a bed and she almost always wakes alone. Her husband is a distant, cold man, and she wouldn’t dare bring up an insecurity to him; he’d chew her out himself. The last thing she wants, in these tiny moments of weakness, is to be lectured.

With a small sigh, she rolls over onto the sunny side of the mattress, where the sheets are a little warmer and she can pretend she’s more cut out for this role. She’d been raised in the desert as little more than a scrap of a girl, almost worthless. But she'd risen higher than all expectations. Empress Consort, bride of Kylo Ren, the last of the Skywalkers. He is the third of his family to sit regal upon the throne and she is to stand by him for the rest of their natural lives.

Only, she’s no good at it, this playing faces.

Her manners falter, she forgets to hold her tongue, she doesn’t understand all of the minute displays made for the sake of political face, and she  _cannot get her husband to look at her_. He is supposed to maintain his line, but when the time comes, she suspects the pregnancy will occur with no sex and no pleasure, just an artificial applicator and a heavy sense of duty. Or a glass tube in a basement laboratory.

She can’t imagine that future for herself, doesn’t want to think on it more. She’s a terrible wife and a terrible consort; who says she’ll last long enough to bear a child anyway?

Rey sits up, a sucking feeling crushing her chest inward. Her heartbeat is too prominent in the quiet room and it pulses through her veins. What if he were terribly unattracted to her? What if he were  _gay_? Then she’d  _never_  be good at this.

There’s a chime at her door and she doesn’t have the time to pull her face back together before the visitor steps inside. It’s him, of course; no one else ventures this far into her quarters when she’s still in them. He is taken aback when he catches sight of her, a frown settling onto his full lips.

“This is a bad time,” he says, growing visibly unnerved.

“I’m sorry.” She scrubs at her eyes. “I didn’t see anything on my calendar so I slept in. I’m sorry.”

He walks slowly to her bedside, black robes following behind like a small tide. He cocks his head, dissatisfied. “There was nothing on your calendar?”

“No, should there have been?”

“It’s our anniversary.”

Her eyes narrow. “What’s the point of celebrating a sham marriage?”

“ _Sham_? I was under the impression it was a  _legal_  wedding.”

“So? We don’t talk, Kylo. We don’t share a bed, we don’t spend time together, and we  _especially_  do not do anything intimate. This isn’t a marriage; it’s a political contract.”

His yellow eyes reflect the sun, glowing golden as his expression deteriorates. Beastly boy with two feet in the darkness; it’s a wonder he can look human at all. “I thought you didn’t want to be intimate with me. You made that very clear on our wedding night.”

Her anger and hurt swirl with confusion. “I did?”

“Yes. You told me, ad verbatim, that you do not want anything to do with a monster, in or out of bed.”

“Then why plan anything today if I said that?”

“Because I don’t want to  _deal_  with this unfamiliarity anymore.” He sits down on the edge of the bed. She can feel his heat through the blanket. “It’s lonely, being married to someone who previously admitted they want nothing to do with you. I want to honor my mother’s wish and keep this marriage intact, but I don’t want to be this unhappy for the rest of my life.”

“I make a shitty Empress anyway.”

“No, you don’t. It’s not your job to know every little detail about my reign. You’re not supposed to have things memorized like I. You do a fine job.”

She shakes her head, trying to will away the ache and sharpness in her chest.

“Rey…” He sighs and opens his arms, a gesture that seems foreign to him. She takes a shaky look between them before struggling out of the covers and to the stranger she married. He’s enormous in the chest and his arms are strong. It is…safe, to be near him, she decides. He is a mountain and it’s a shame she’s only now curling into him for the first time. He smooths a hand down her back, touch gentle and light. “I couldn’t have a better consort. It would be nice if we could talk every once in a while, but I cannot have asked for a better woman to stand as my empress.”

“I can name ten better women.”

“I’ll shoot them all down. Would it be…all right if I were to kiss your forehead?”

She nods, voice buried deep in the folds of his robes.

His lips are soft and quick, only placing a small peck on her skin. And another, and another, until soon she’s being pushed back into the pillows giggling, attempting to fend off the surprising show of affection.

“I want to get to know you,” he says from above, propping himself up on his elbows. He captures her whole world with his shoulders, the way he’s situated on top of her, and it lights a small spark of want, something very new. “I had a brunch prepared for this morning. I had to ask around to find out your favored foods. Please, come down with me.”

“Do I have to put one of my dresses on?”

“Not unless you want to.” He sits up on his haunches, gazing down with a plead. “It’ll be good, I promise.”

She extends a hand to be pulled to her feet when he finally stands. “If we’re going to become…intimate with each other, are you expecting a kiss?”

“Not until after dinner.” His grin is wicked. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

“I want to be.” She picks up something in his eyes, a look that gives him painfully away. “How long have you had wanted to get closer to me?”

“A few months.” He licks his lips, nervous. “And you?”

“I’ve been contemplating how I feel for a month, month and a half.”

“Well, you have all the time in the world to decide.” He kisses her brow again like a child with a new toy, eager to give her all his attention. “Come, before any of it gets cold.”


	9. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: How about his response to some dumb elitist making a comment about Rey?

She hears his voice, not the insult.

“ _What did you call my wife?”_ It’s flat, calm, and bone-chilling.

She glances across from the bar, suddenly feeling dirty in her own skin. Her husband—her terrifying, beastly, immoral husband—has gone snow-pale, his bared teeth like ice shards. Those yellow eyes pierce through even the darkest room.

With a stifled sucked-in breath, Rey shrinks to the other side of the bar, hidden behind a pillar. Best he not know she heard.

 _I know_ , comes his voice through her mind. He is going to split the ground.

Quickly, failing to not draw his attention, she slips from the ballroom, retreating back to their chambers. What he does next always makes her feel sick. She’d been raised in a cruel, harsh desert doing unspeakable things, but the spilling of blood turns her queasy with guilt.

He’d done with his bare hands this time.

He steps into the bedroom on his way to the fresher, nails grimy with tissue, candy-red splatter on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I hate when you’re like this.”

He softens an inch. “Rey, he  _insulted_ you.”

“It makes me nauseous, what you do in my name, Kylo.” She backs up to the headboard, far away from his reach. She’d tried to stop him once and it had earned her a nasty welt and him half of a concussion. He was cautious touching her now, afraid of the damage he’d caused in blind anger, of the deadly force with which she fought back.

“Sweetheart—”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me,” she warns. “Wash up; looking at you turns my stomach.”

Showered, he returns like a hurt puppy, if puppies could grow so evil and large. She lets him pull her into his lap, unsure of how else to respond. Unsure of the consequence of refusing. He pushes kisses onto her throat and it reminds her she still holds love for the ferocious, bloodthirsty man who’d pulled her from the desert. It is both a repulsive and comforting thought.

“You can’t keep maiming and murdering everyone who speaks ill of me.”

“What else would you have me do?”

“Nothing.” She pushes a strand of drying hair behind his ear. “You make it worse by acting out.”

He is silent for a number of minutes. “Is that what you want, princess?”

“I am your consort; I am not a princess.”

“Fine. As bearer of my heart, is that your wish?”

She cocks an eyebrow. “You have a heart?”

“That dry wit always shining through.”

“Yes.” She kisses his forehead for emphasis. “I can handle myself.”

“I know.” He hugs her tighter to his chest. “Wish I saw it more often.”

“Does bloodshed always get you off?”

“Only if you’re the one dealing it.”


	10. Forgotten Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Would Renperor be the type to remember a birthday or even care about one? I wonder what he'd do for Rey...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm getting around to answering all the comments, I am just overwhelmed and overjoyed with how many are streaming in! Your words are so important and meaningful to me, and I want to take the time to answer each and every one of you<3
> 
> I'll be updating one piece per day until it's caught up with all I've written. If a vignette is particularly short, I may post two.
> 
> Cheers!

Just like the year before, she counted the day after it passed. Older. A new number attached itself to her, a little bigger than the last. She was a young woman now, truly, but she felt no older than before. After all, she’d aged ten years in that desert.

She had been living in the palace for a little over two years and had seen birthday celebrations come and go. Her husband’s was a grand ordeal, one he detested with every scorched fiber of his being. He made appropriate faces to the holonet and then shut down, locking himself in his chambers. She had never asked, but had heard whispers that an awful event had occurred the same day years ago.

It was no surprise he never asked about hers; he wasn’t a gentle creature, his mind focused on the immediate, not the future. Kriff, she was lucky to get his bored attention for a few minutes, why would she expect anything more?

A week later, her day come and gone in silence, she sat pouring over datapads, attempting to work with a buzzing mind. She had  _some_  hand in helping him run the empire, but it was mostly looking pleasant and being good PR, which was difficult due to her lack of early socialization. She was drafting a message out to some committee head when a slender gold box was pushed in her way.

She looked up into her husband’s matching gold eyes, dull and uninterested. “It’s for you.”

“What for, your grace?”

“You’ve fully come of age now, haven’t you?”

She’d ‘come of age’ out in the sand at fifteen, far too scared and much too young to be an adult. It had been six years since and she narrowed her eyes. “I missed being an adolescent and went straight from a child into womanhood.”

To her surprise, he looked nervous. “Forgive me, I had no intentions of insinuating.” He picked the box back up. “As you were.”

She watched him leave, honey-crested black robes streaking like tidal waves behind his gait. Such an odd fellow. She wondered if they’d ever come to understand each other, she with her unbroken spirit and he with his withered heart.

It was hours later she realized he was attempting to bridge a gap.

He was a predictable animal, hunched over his desk at half-past nine, the lights in his office dimmed as though he were finishing one more task before sleep. He glanced up when she entered, but gave no further indication he saw her.

“You have a question, don’t you?” he asked without ungluing his eyes from a large projected monitor.

“Beg pardon, your grace, but did you attempt to give me a birthday present?”

“I really don’t understand why you insist with my styling.” He clucked his tongue, displeased at information rolling across his screen. “It’s so impersonal for a marriage. Are you not my consort?”

“I am—”

“Then we’re on as equal footing as we can get.” He looked to her now, amber eyes stained blue from the swimming collage of information in front of him. “I did attempt, but on reflection, you wouldn’t have liked it anyway.”

“You could always take it back, if I didn’t.”

“But see, I can’t. It’s the same present I received when I turned twenty-one.”

“I’d still like to know.”

‘Is it  _really_  that important, princess?”

She detested that pet name when he mocked. “ _Yes_.”

“Fine. Close your eyes and turn around.”

She heard the tearing of paper before his footsteps approached. He was light on his feet for such a big man, carrying himself with the ease of a dancer. He nudged for her to turn by prodding her hips. She was met with cold metal, a circlet chilling against her skin as he fastened the gift around her neck.

“You can look now.”

He had moved her in front of a mirror, one of the many reflective accents in his office. She figured he was vain, but he explained the many angles made lobbyists and reporters uncomfortable. It was a manipulation tactic, much the way the necklace felt.

It was silver with a single large stone making up the centermost piece. It hung almost like a weight around her neck, circular and even, the threading wrapping like a planetary ring. She let a fingertip grace its cool surface.

“It was my mother’s,” he said with an uncharacteristically soft voice. “One of few things left after the accident.”

Rey shook her head. “I can’t accept this.”

“You are my wife,” She watched his reflection press his lips to her crown. “My father gave it to my mother, and now it belongs to you.”

“Will you ask for it back when it comes time for our inevitable divorce?”

His brows furrowed. “I have no desire to leave you, unless you want out?”

“We’re not even intimate.”

“I thought…that might be traumatic for you, with the way you were when I found you.”

She glanced at his sad eyes in the mirror. “Maybe not if we start slowly.”

His arms felt anxious when they crossed around her hips. “In any case, no, I would not ask for it back. My mother…she’d like how regal it makes you.”

“Thank you.” She settled her hands on his forearms.

“Happy birthday, princess.”


	11. Misdirection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Kisses because everything hurts right now including being loved by you but you’re also the only thing that makes it feel better

He usually slipped her something, a gold liquid in her nightly drink. He did it when he intended to be a beast beyond the citadel walls, off the planet, in the depths of cold space. Calm spread like honey through her veins and she cursed him for his attention to detail. One night, just one, she’d like to wake to her husband’s brown eyes—the ones he wore before the wedding.

She met the piercing, glowing yellow of his stare with reluctance. He wiped blood cautiously from his cheek when he caught her grimace. He favored his right side. “It’s nothing.”

“What have you done?”

“Little. You didn’t finish your wine.”

“You can’t play with my emotions like that, giving me concoctions so I act the way you want.”

“It’s for how you want.” He brushed his dark locks from his forehead and winced. “You don’t like to be as agitated as I make you.”

“Or perhaps you could stop doing what upsets me.”

He chuckled, then coughed. “Too late in this life with the web I’ve woven. Will you wait up for me? I have to wash.”

She grumbled, slinking back down into the bedsheets. He moved like a whisper to the fresher, cloaks dragging soundlessly on the carpeting. The water was the only sound for a while, then there was a howl.

Quick on her feet, she urged the door open to find him standing in front of the mirrors, water dripping from his paling skin. A gouge of red and gristly brown took up the whole of his left flank. He held the bandages in one balled fist.

“Why the  _kriff_  didn’t you get this patched?” Frustration hissed through her voice more than anger.

“I  _did_.”

“With bacta?”

“We ran out.” He reached for a towel, suddenly concerned with modesty. “I can handle redressing it.”

“You’re crap at it.” She rummaged through the medicine cabinet, pulling out the large bacta patches and a roll of gauze. “Hold still.”

He hissed when she secured the patches to his skin. There were barely enough to cover the broadest part of the wound. 

When she finished the wrappings, she stood to kiss his cheek. “I hate seeing you like this, cut into and bruised.”

“I thought you hated me in general?”

She shook her head. “I hate that I love you. And I hate when you’re hurt. And when you run off and make me so worried about your safety, never letting me stay at your side.”

He tipped her chin up, kissing her gently for a moment too long. “I don’t want you to come because I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

“I’m a  _trained warrior_. I can handle myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t.”

She pulled him down by the hair, wet strands cool in her hands. Her kiss was fiercer, more demanding. When the tears started to gather behind her eyes, she softened her hold. “Stop doing this to me, Kylo. Please. I’m afraid one day they’ll bring you home to me in pieces.”

“They need me at the front.”

“And I need you  _here_.” She swallowed a painful sound. “Respect my wishes for once.”

“All right. I’ll do what I can.” He pressed a peck to her forehead. “I love that you love me, for what it’s worth. I fear I’d have self-destructed by now if it weren’t for your care.”

“Please don’t do that either.”

“I promise not to as long as you promise to kiss me like that more often.”


	12. It's None of Your Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Where Rey finally starts seeing Ren, just Ren and not an emperor or a sith and she sees him as home

“It’s a fine day today, for all it’s worth.”

She’d been hearing sentences along those same lines for hours now, always directed towards her husband. He took them stoically, thanked the speaker, and continued to the next face to greet. It was a dual celebration today; his birthday, and the date of his ascension.

It would be improper to ask him why everyone needed to clarify that is was a good day  _even though_  it happened to be the current date. If she were to bring it up, he’d likely scowl and dismiss her back to her handmaidens, no longer privileged to stand beside him for the evening.

“What happened today?” she instead asked one of his many retainers.

The man paled, conflicted between answering the Empress’ request or keeping his lord’s privacy from his wife. “There was an event years ago, your grace.”

“It’s ‘your highness,” her husband corrected. He loomed over her shoulder like a glacier over an ocean. “She’s not a duchess, she gets the proper styling.”

She was ushered away without an answer, fingers like iron bars around her upper arm.

“I apologize, it’s not my business.”

“Damn right it’s not,” he hissed, sharp teeth flashing in a mouth of red. “Keep to yourself for the rest of the evening. If I want you later, I’ll find you myself.”

Coldly dismissed like a servant girl. Rejected, again. It was getting exhausting, wearing out his patience and then being cast aside. She left the grand hall, dejected. Better to see herself out before she upset him more than stick around and blow his temper out of proportion.

It took a half hour for her handmaidens to pry her from her ensemble. She locked herself in the fresher after and spent an hour taking off her makeup and showering. Face scrubbed and puffy red, she felt a little less miserable. Not presentable, not in a state in which she’d wish him to see her, but less upset. Staring at herself in the mirror, she cannot recall the last time her husband had seen her barefaced.

* * *

Hours upon hours later, she’d fallen asleep with the light on, a datapad curled in the sheets beside her. He was careful entering, quiet on his feet. He’d been so touchy all evening, it wasn’t fair to have snapped at her. It wasn’t fair to keep it from her either, but such a vulnerability…it was one of few things that cut him to his core.

She jolted awake when he neared, her eyes wide and unsettled. Uncomfortable. Damn. “My apologies.”

Rey sat up and cracked her neck, sleep clouding over her nervousness. “You said you’d fetch me if you wanted me?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to spend the night in my bed, but you look tucked in already.”

“No, no, it’s all right,” she said around a yawn. “It’s your birthday.”

He managed to stifle his cringe.

She was slow to wake, to wrap a robe around her shoulders, to follow him down the long hall from her quarters to his. In some ways, he found it odd they were married. He’d practically stolen her from the desert and sweet-talked her into helping him win a bet (not that she knew), and she was still there at his side. It was rare, so rare, they spend time together. The last time they shared a bed was over a month ago. Too long in his opinion.

He undressed slowly while she practically flopped into his bed and crawled under the blanket. She could have just said no if she didn’t want to stay with him. No, she was content away from his beastly presence.

“I’m going to fall back asleep if you take any longer,” came her voice, floaty and laced with dreams.

The last of his robes shucked, he switched off the lights and followed after her, deliberating whether or not to touch her, to lay an arm around her.

“You can if you want,” she mumbled, listening in over their bond.

He kissed a bare spot on her shoulder and drew her in by the waist. “I’m sorry for snapping earlier.”

“You were within your right. You can keep secrets from me, any and all.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“It’s your decision, you’re the emperor.”

They were supposed to be on equal ground. “Sleep well, princess.”

She chuckled. “I’m not a princess.”

With a sigh, he held her tighter.

* * *

Rey took up snooping as a hobby. If she couldn’t ask and he wouldn’t tell her, she was going to figure this out for herself. It took about a week to find the right part of his vast library to look. Flimsies and display discs lined the walls, each with their own distinct home. He kept records of previous years, news reports, logs, anything and everything. She took a few stabs at which year the event happened during and came up empty for five years back.

It was seven years ago. He was still practically a child.

_“Crown Prince Ben Organa, 19, has been thrust forward onto the throne years too early. The prince’s eyes were glazed, his mind no doubt still lingering on the assassination that occurred earlier this morning, leaving him orphaned—”_

Rey dropped the holopad, hand flying to her mouth to hide her small scream. She’d never asked what happened to his parents, why he’d taken his throne at such a young age. She assumed patricide, but the more she read, the more unlikely that looked. For starters, his mother had been empress regent, her husband, prince consort.

She was careful leaving his quarters, hoping he was still in meetings with his war cabinet. Slipping back into her rooms, she felt like her mental image of him was beginning to crumble. He had rough edges and sharp teeth, but he hid a softness, a weakness. Not from everyone, but from  _her_. He didn’t want her to see him vulnerable.

“But you have now, haven’t you?” He was there in her room, standing in front of the windows overlooking Coruscant. With a deep breath, he glanced at her over his shoulder, amber eyes dulled. “You couldn’t help yourself.”

Ashamed, she turned away. “We’re supposed to be equals, Kylo.”

His laugh was humorless. “What other burning questions do you have for me?”

“You changed your name?”

“I put a close to a broken chapter in my life. Next.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not your business.”

“I’m your  _wife_ , Kylo.” She heard the choke in her voice and swore. “We’re supposed to be a team. You can trust me.”

“It’s not about trust.”

“Then what is it about? You don’t tell me things that are important to you, about your past, who you are as a person. We’ve shared a bed maybe six times, and none of those times have we been intimate.”

“So?”

“We’ve been wed for a year and a half,” she growled. “Maybe you should have left me in the desert.”

“Maybe I should have.” He brushed by her in his exit, temper like a forest fire scorching on his heels.

Sliding down onto her sofa, she hoped this little outburst wouldn’t land her in a ditch somewhere below the city.

* * *

She found him in his office two nights later, his hands steepled, eyes closed. He had been careful not to run into her and she hadn’t seen tail or tooth of him since he’d left her emotionally bloody.

“I want to apologize,” she started, eyes as far from his face as she could manage.

“Don’t.” Golden eyes opened, fire lost from his gaze. “Come here please.”

Hesitant, she stepped around his desk, unsure of what he meant when he rested his arms on his chair.

“All the way to me, princess.” He pulled her onto his lap, wrapping her tightly to his chest. “I was young when it happened. It changed who I was, how I saw myself. How the the empire saw me. I grew cold, trading emotions for ruthlessness.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s the hand I was dealt.” Ren kissed her forehead, lips lingering a moment too long. “I’m grateful I found you, I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

* * *

He carried her to bed after pouring his soul out, drained and exhausted. He kissed her on the cheek and disappeared, leaving her with a mountain of unanswered questions.

It was difficult to sleep, her feeling swirling and clawing. She’d been so angry with him and now she felt…distraught. Mournful for a tragedy that was not her own. She wanted to comfort him as best she could, but he was still distant, emotionally. She wondered, somewhat hopelessly, if he’d ever truly let her in for good.

Not to her surprise, he disappeared again. The palace was enormous and it was easy for him to evade her, to avoid another confrontation. The next time she saw his visage was over the HoloNet in the middle of an address. His dark curls swam around his face, long blue and silver jewels dripping like dew across his head. He had such an interesting face, his nose long but elegant, brow regal, alabaster skin speckled with spots.

She’d never really  _looked_  at him before, never fully noticed his attractiveness. It had been clouded over by the nights of bloodstained hands and wild animal eyes. A smile flashed quickly across his lips and her heartbeat skipped. This man was hers, his flaws and scars and all.

Rey didn’t have to sneak to see him the next time, finding he instead came to her. She had a mild heart attack, turning to pull her pajamas from her closet only to find a visitor beside her bed. Her pulse thundered at the sight of him, at the delicate expression in his eyes.

They met in the middle, drawn to each other. He let her brush his cheek with her fingers, let them lace back into his silky hair. The kiss to follow was tender, slow, all-encompassing. She followed him when he broke away, stealing him back for a second more.

“I want to kiss like that more often,” she said softly into the warmth of his neck. “I want you more often.”

“And you’ll have me.” He tilted her chin up, nipped at her cheek, her ears. “Starting tonight, if you want me to stay.”

She looked up at her husband, grinning. “I’d like that,” she said, pulling him down for another kiss, pulling him towards the bed.


	13. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: SINCE YOU HAVE A SCAR KINK Rey kissing all of Killer Emperor's scars?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like them tall, thicc, and scarred

Ren wiped condensation off the mirror, unimpressed with the reflection staring back. Exhausted, he wasn’t feeling up to replacing the bandages covering a fresh gash on his forehead. Before, he’d been content to let everything heal into a grisly line, but after watching Rey freak out over the long, angry red slash that drew from his eyebrow across his shoulder and to his breast, he wasn’t keen on giving her more fodder. It was annoying enough to have her tag along to battle.

He missed being reckless, missed not caring about the attractiveness of his outer appearance. He wore handsome robes, but never made the effort to tame his wild hair or dust powder across his cheeks. Now that he entertained the company of a woman, he found himself agonizing over the countless moles decorating his skin. He regretted the numerous lines all shades from red to silver that called him a fearsome warrior.

A careless fighter.

She seemed to read his mind more often than not, barging into the fresher with a faked complaint of washing her face (she’d already finished her routine before he showered). Normally sweet when offered honey, she became a sand bear when he did something to annoy her, or when he dared to ignore her heartfelt requests.

“Again, Kylo?”

Tiredness crept up every muscle in his body and he couldn’t find it in himself to glare. She was the only one who got away with calling him by his name, but tonight he wasn’t feeling it. He didn’t want the lecture; he just wanted to sleep. “If you want to fix it, fix it, but I’m sick of re-bandaging it.”

“So you’d rather it just heal all ugly by itself?”

“Yes?”

Rey frowned and her expression grew soft, pained. “You’ve already got so many scars, love.”

“It’s not like they’re marring anything nice to look at.”

With a sigh, she cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking the numb skin of the red-violet scar across his face. “What’s this about?”

“I hate making you worry.”

“Well, as long as you’re running the galaxy I’ll never  _stop_  worrying, but I’m more upset that you won’t take care of yourself than I am by you getting hurt.”

“I’m already so covered in scars, what’s one more going to do?”

She drew him down, lacing a hand through his wet hair, and kissed over his cheek where the mulberry line blossomed. “I’ll be sadder, seeing how much you put yourself out there, but it’s a display of bravery, right?”

He nodded, lying. “Right.”

Her lips trailed to his neck, down to the mottled skin of his chest. “Back home I’d have been proud to have a husband like you, decorated and strong.”

“Are you not proud now?”

Expecting a sneer, he was surprised when her cheeks colored, ashamed of how the sentence sounded. “No, that’s not what I meant at all! I’m so proud of you, Kylo.” She moved to his right arm where the line trailed and was met by silver crescents and starbursts. “I feel protected when I’m near you, safe. I mean, look at how many things have tried to kill you and failed.”

“Thanks,” he deadpanned.

“Would you be upset if I bore scars as well?”

He already knew she did, had seen the slash on her upper thighs she’d desperately tried to hide, the light circlets on her wrists from being handled too viciously. “I would think you strong. I’d think we matched. And—” he tipped her chin up from her descent down his stomach, “—I don’t think I’m awake enough.”

“Can I still kiss your hurts while you’re falling asleep?”

“Yes,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the deeply desired coziness of his bedroom. “I will accept that gladly.”


	14. First Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one didn't have a prompt, but it does come at the beginning.

Three full years had passed since Ren’s ascension and while the grief of the circumstances had yet to fade in its entirety, he could no longer shirk his responsibilities. He had to produce an heir at some point, which meant finding a suitable wife.

His advisors picked out swarm upon swarm of beautiful high-born, well-spoken women. One after another he found to be vapid, power-hungry, or uninteresting. He rejected each and every woman he met until he found himself standing on the red sands of a desert planet gazing upon the most unlikely candidate.

She was a slave girl with ruddy wind-whipped cheeks and a glazed look in her muddy eyes. He chased the light into them when he bent down to her, breaking her trance with the cock of his head.

“You can feel it, can’t you? Like lightning in your fingertips.”

She nodded, the links in the chain around her neck clacking. The sound ricocheted in his head, ground anger into his bones. He paid for her by leaving her pimp’s head still attached to his shoulders. Dangling by a string, but Ren counted it as fair.

* * *

 

“But she’s a common  _whore_  your highness! It would be a left-handed marriage.” his head advisor hissed as he strode through the upper halls to the war room.

His robes followed behind him like loyal dogs nipping his heels. He snarled, snapping canine teeth. “My mother married a smuggler, yet here I command half the galaxy.”

“The late Prince Consort had some noble blood–”

“My blood does not have power; I do.”

He shut the large ornate doors to his advisor’s squabbling, making his way to the head of the oval table. A holomap of Wild Space was projected over the wood, points of red showing where his Navy had been successful. He pushed thoughts of marriage from his mind and devoted the whole of his attention to his war cabinet.

Hours upon hours elapsed before he found himself in a turbolift down to his private floors. The girl was being kept close to his rooms, attended to by a staff who had previously aided his mother directly. The lady’s maid, a beautiful woman called Winter, had already grown fond of the girl.

“I like her more than the others they keep bringing you,” she told him when he asked after her, if she were comfortable with him visiting.

The girl startled when he entered her chambers, eyes wide like a doe. He lowered himself to sit on the floor in front of her. She expected men to demand things of her, to take without asking, and he had no desire to remind her of any traumas she suffered. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No.”

“I wanted to make sure you knew that I don’t expect anything from you in return for this. Anything mine is yours. If you want lovers, long vacations away from me, expensive toys, you need only ask.”

“This is because I have it, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He felt little cilia reach out to him from her control of the Force. She was searching him, looking for a lie in his words. “You’re special like I. Few others understand what we can.”

“And I’ll have to bear your children?”

She was better at picking his brain than she let on. “When the time comes. That’s the only thing I ask in exchange. It can happen as personally or impersonally as you like.”

“We don’t have to….you know, on the wedding night, correct?”

“We never have to if you don’t want to.” Though, he’d admit, it would be a major loss to never have such a gorgeous creature in his bed at least one.

“I heard that.”

“So you did. I do find you attractive, but I’m uninterested in forcing anything. We might have a passionate marriage full of romance and tender moments. Or it might be a business contract void of any intimacy. We’ll have to see.”

“You don’t seem like the romantic type.”

“I’ve been known to surprise every now and again. I hope I’ll surprise you, too.”

He stood and bid her a good evening, feeling her eyes trail him as he took leave. She continued to pick at his thoughts when he dressed for sleep, trying to break through his exterior to see what kind of a man lay underneath, if he were honest or silver-tongued. When he tried to worm into her mind, he was met with a barricade stronger than durasteel, harsher than the first frost upon the flower petals.

If nothing else, their eventual marriage would keep him entertained as he attempted to decipher his reserved bride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joke's on Kylo, he's the one afraid of sex


	15. Past Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No prompt; it's about parents.

Rain was a rare sight on Coruscant. Nothing grew that wasn’t tended to, and the artificial atmosphere did not produce what it was not programmed for, meaning a deluge was out of the question. Today being the exception, a day of remembrance.

He had never questioned how far out the rain fell, or for how long in the areas farther from the palace. On the building itself, the thunder boomed for the whole day, the Emperor locked away in one of the high turrets. It was best not to disturb him, his staff had learned during previous years. His bride, new and unknowledgeable, insisted upon climbing the many steps to his stronghold despite the warnings of her handmaidens and his advisors.

She was beginning to feel like a bit of an idiot when she approached the doors into the antechamber, rain pelting against the sides of the tower. Thunder roared again and she, unfamiliar and spooked by the weather, took the daring leap into his rooms and shut the doors. The silence was deafening, the sound of her heartbeat echoing in her skull.

The Force stretched out to greet her and she recognized his mind as he probed hers, wanting to know who she was, why someone had come looking for him, the galaxy had better be falling apart if he were to be disturbed.

 _It’s me_ , she conveyed as best she could, still clumsy in wielding her intent. Lightning flashed through the windows and the doors leading to his rooms groaned open. 

 _Well, come in, then_.

He was curled into a window seat, somehow collapsing his huge shoulders to fit in such a confined space. His cheek pressed against the cool glass, she saw the whisper of his expression without meeting his eyes. They looked darker than usual, a dull, diffident chestnut brown in place of volatile yellow. “Is there something you need?” Even his voice seemed meek, mousy.

“Are you…all right?”

“No.”

When it was clear he had no intention to expand on his mood, she approached slowly. She took it as a good sign he didn’t snap when she sat beside him, her back to the storm outside. “Today is an observed holiday, isn’t it?”

“Holiday sounds too joyous.” His gaze remained cast downward at the flow of traffic in the gray sky. “It is a day of mourning.”

His parents had been killed years before he’d found her in the desert. It had taken prying and a half to get that much out of him. Based on what she’d heard, from all the staff and friends of his she’d spoken to, he had changed into a different, broken man following. She would believe that; to this day, she had only seen him smile twice, and never for longer than a moment.

“Which one is today?”

“My mother’s birthday.” He looked up at her, melancholia sick on his features. “She would have loved you.”

“Is that why you picked me?”

His breath fogged on the window with his sigh. “I tell myself it’s not, but I don’t know anymore. Maybe that’s why, subconsciously.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She was softer than my grandfather. More just, more caring. She wanted what was best for all her subjects, no matter how difficult it would be to fight for. She went out of her way for me, too, the way her mother had for her.” He chuckled humorlessly and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I guess tragic deaths run in the family. My grandmother first, which broke my grandfather. His passing led my uncle to disappear. Then my parents left, which created the monster you see before you.”

“Kylo.” She searched for his hand, to kiss the crests of his knuckles where strength lay like mountain peaks of sinew and bones. “You’re not a monster.”

“I’m cruel. I bite the hands that offer help. I don’t follow in my mother’s footsteps as I should. I’ve treated you poorly in the past.”

“You’re healing.”

“Don’t make excuses for me.” He drew inwards again, yanking his palm from her light touch. “Don’t lessen what I am, Rey. I’m failing.”

Determined and upset, she moved closer in order to place a kiss on his forehead, where his mulberry scar began to break across his pale peach skin. “You’re grieving the loss of a parent, my love. It’s normal to ache.”

“It happened so many years ago that I should be over it.”

“But you’re not.”

He let her fold into him, let her settle against his chest. “No, I’m not.”

His heartbeat boomed like thunder in her ear, beating heavy against the sorrow in his ribs. “I don’t know if you’ve guessed by now, but I do love you, I do care about you.” His arms tightened around her frame. “I hate seeing you like this, but if there’s anything you need—”

“I never thought I would hear those words again,” he said softly, his voice drifting like fog, dissipating into the air. He tipped her chin up to kiss her once, soft and tenderly. “You’ve grown to mean the world to me.”

“I can’t fix you, but I can stay at your side.”

“Please.” He kissed her crown. “Don’t leave me.”

She wouldn’t, she promised.


	16. A Necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: This one is written off potential leaks (that honestly sound really hokey) so read at your own discretion!
> 
> SERIOUSLY, DON'T PROCEED IF YOU WANT TO GO IN BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF THIS WEIRD SHIT PEOPLE KEEP LEAKING, REAL OR FAKE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different ~~a man with a tape recorder up his nose~~

The blade dropped from his hands, hot red plasma sputtering off with a final hiss. He stood alive, the victor, but his shoulders shook and his knees seemed weak. He turned back to her and it was painfully evident he was afraid, so afraid.

She stepped to him cautiously, also in shock, also with a barren throat. Words went blank in her mind, unable to unravel from her tongue and into the air. His master was no more, a golden cloak covered in ashes and remnants of life. He couldn’t seem to pull himself away from the sight, the mess. This was it.

The coup d’état.

The Praetorian guards stood at attention for him, escorted him to his chambers aboard the ship he now commanded. She followed, trailing, worry climbing up her limbs like weeds, roots growing fast and deep. When the doors closed on his bedchambers, he let out a breaking, trembling sigh.

Rey sat in a chair across from his bed, watched uselessly as her bristling, snarling former enemy collapsed into confusion and helplessness. “I hate to ask, but are you...?”

“I don’t know. I think so. It’s got a terrible ring to it, doesn’t it? Supreme Leader.”

He hid his face in his hands and took a deep breath, focusing his thoughts. She was silent, deep in her own mind, unsure of the next step. How would Leia react? How would Kylo, once he broke from his stupor? 

After an eternal silence, he spoke. “What do we do now?”

She looked up at him, faced the fear in his eyes. “We?”

“Please, Rey, I can’t do this alone. I won’t make it.”

“What is it you think we need to do?” she asked as she sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers.

“This war is pointless. Endless. Holdo won’t let it go, I can’t just kneel to her.”

“Why not?”

“Because it won’t solve anything. What peace can be achieved with subservience and humiliation?” He scrubbed at his eyes. “I need to do what’s right, or what will result in a just outcome, but I don’t know what that is.”

“I won’t fight against the Resistance.”

“Even if that’s the only way?”

“I can’t, Kylo. There has to be more than one option to achieve what you want.”

He nodded, his voice growing soft. “I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry.”

He followed with her when she was escorted back to her ship, a dozen red-clad figures trailing behind him. Word hadn’t spread yet and wouldn’t until he gave the go-ahead. She knew without needing to ask he was waiting for her to depart before breaking the news.

“This isn’t a goodbye,” she told him, hesitant to ascend her fighter.

“You’re always welcome if you change your mind.”

“I won’t. You know I won’t.”

“I do know.” He could sense her anxiety clouding her mind. “Don’t worry so. I’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

“I’ll come back for you, sweetheart.” He cupped her cheeks, kissed her brow. “I promise.”

The action was brief, but it caused her heart to flutter like a caged bird, aching to fly. He’d grown to mean too damn much to her in these short weeks. “You better keep that promise, Solo.”

He chuckled and she wanted him to come closer, to challenge her so she could repay him in kind, but instead he stepped back, and she jumped up into the cockpit. She’d wasted too much time as it were.

Rey didn’t need to look back to know Kylo watched her ship until she made the jump to hyperspace.

* * *

 

She didn’t see him when he led the attack on Crait. She heard from the General that her boy was still locked inside Kylo’s shell, but he was more present than before. Rey wasn’t sure Leia approved of his path, but she took solace knowing the General thought he would make it home alive.

* * *

 

The next time she saw him, he carried the weight of the universe on his shoulders, a heaviness settling into his newly-yellow eyes. He looked like a prince who’d inherited his father’s war, unsure and uneasy. Unready for what lay ahead.

“You made me a promise,” she said, trying to keep the wavering from her voice.

“I did, and I haven’t broken it.” He stepped close to her, so close, the warmth of his body intoxicating. “I don’t want any of this, Rey; I want to go home.”

“Then go. What’s stopping you?”

“It’s not so easy. So much has yet to be finished, I can’t just leave without seeing any of it through. Peace is a fragile thing and I don’t want to break it before it forms.”

“I miss you,” she admitted, letting her walls fall.

“Stay with me, Rey. I need you. Please, it’s so hard to do this on my own.”

She didn’t remember how her arms wrapped around his frame, or how his breath came to tickle the skin on her neck. She didn’t remember starting to cry, or warm tears streaking across her sun-hot face. “I can’t walk out on my friends.” It sounded horrible in her head too, putting aside her soulmate—the one person who understood her to her core, who made her feel like she belonged somewhere—for strangers and allies banded together under a banner of hope.

“We all have our own parts to play in this,” he said with a thick, steady voice. “We’ll be on the same side again soon.”

* * *

The war ended before she saw him again. He was tired and sad, but seemed less weary. His smile was melancholy and his eyes had grown older than his face.

“They’re calling you emperor now.”

“So they are.” His dress was regal, all blacks and golds, fit for a lonely prince. “This war had no victor, but I’ve come out on top, somehow.”

“You broke your promise, Kylo.”

“I beg to differ.” He took her hands in his and she let him, heart still reaching for his. "What color are my eyes?”

“Earth-brown.”

“Then I came back for you, didn’t I?” His embrace was bone-crushing and quick. “I’ve been waiting for what feels like eons. Stay beside me this time, please.”

“Kylo—“

He gave her a peck on the cheek. “Ben. It’s Ben.”

She pulled him into a long overdue kiss, fingers tangling into his hair, forcing him closer.

“Is that a yes?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his grin. "What do you think?”


	17. Howl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things that go bump in the night are less fun than they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now that we're totally derailed, I'm going to jump the shark and throw in something that kinda fits that I wrote a while ago because, what the hell, we're all going slightly insane with anticipation anyway.
> 
> Vague prompt: Bruh can you fuck me up with a werewolf/killer emperor-esque fic

Her boots scrape on the damp rocks as she barrels through the forest. She has no idea which planet this is, where she is, how much farther ahead the woods will stretch. Her nerves scream to  _run_ , skidding on wet leaves, moss, and pine needles. Night has fallen and she’d been an  _idiot_  to explore past the city limits once the twin moons took hold of the sky.

The howl booms through the dying leaves, startling her heart out of a beat. Full moons, two full moons, why in the galaxy had he chosen  _here_  to visit? What possessed him to think this could possibly be a good or even moderately all right decision?

She almost trips and Rey swears loudly, tumbling down the side of the trail. The lights of a small hut catch her attention and she picks herself up on bruised feet, changing course. Maybe the inhabitant will be friendly and let her lay low for the rest of the night.

An old Bimm woman greets her, barely coming to Rey’s hip. One look at her scraped knees and mud-streaked hair is all it takes to get ushered inside.

“What are you running from, my dear?” the Bimm asks, preparing a kettle for tea.

“My husband.”

She accepts a cup of tea readily when offered, the hot liquid warming her chilled fingers. She manages to hide out for an hour, hour and a half before the snarling is painfully audible. She can see his breath, hot clouds splitting and splintering in the cold night. When he paws at the ground, she knows she has to face him, lest he do something inconceivably stupid.

He almost blends into the darkness, his black pelt melting into the trees. If it weren’t for golden eyes and a sun-red mouth, he would have a perfect coat of camouflage. He looks bigger than normal, taller, more imposing.

“Well?” His voice rumbles through her mind, his vocal cords lost to everything but growls and grunts.

“Well what?”

“You deliberately disobeyed me. Again.”

“I am not your doll to order around.”

“No, but it’s a full moon—two, in fact—and I asked you, very pleadingly, to stay inside after dusk. And you didn’t. There’s an hour before midnight.”

She kicks a rock like a defiant child. “I can make it back in an hour.”

“Can you? I’ve been trying to herd you in the right direction to no avail. Do you have any idea how far away we are from the city right now?”

“…More than an hour?”

“Try two with your short little bipedal legs.”

“They’re not short—“

The wolf in front of her lets out a distressed moan and rolls his eyes. “Get on my back or I’ll eat you. I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.”

“You won’t eat me,” she scoffs, running her hand through his fur.

“I will. I go into a frenzy, it’s not controllable by nature.”

He is fast, she’ll let him have that much. He has to be about ten feet off the ground. His long gait covers more distance in a few strides than she could sprinting. He makes good time, dumping her at the edge of the city gates.

“You are to get inside or there’ll be consequences.”

He’s out of breath and exhausted, his threat almost hollow. “What kind of consequences?”

“Please, Rey, we don’t have time to argue about this now.”

With a huff, she obeys, making it back to the villa they were staying at. It’s calmer here, though it is close to the edge of the city wall. Alone in the grand hall, she prepares for bed, far too used to sleeping alone. 

 His howl splits the night when the witching hour finally strikes. It is bloodcurdling. She’s heard that exact noise from him before, and each time it has struck her immobile with fear.

She has no doubt he would have shredded her alive in his delirium.

Hours pass before the door to the bedroom opens. His figure is outlined in the low lighting, awkward but mostly human now. She sits up, making note of the grim expression on his face. Kylo’s eyes have yet to return to normal, limbal rings dark and thick, reflecting light like an animal. He sighs and she sees his teeth, fiercely sharp and intimidating.

“I did warn you,” he says softly when he sits down on his side of the bed. Scraps of fur that have yet to shed still cling to his shoulders, his arms, the nape of his neck.

“You did.”

“I sensed your fear. It was distant but palpable. It’s not my goal to scare you. There’s a reason I ask you to be safe and away every time this happens.” He turns and kicks his feet under the covers, combing a clawed hand through his thick hair. “I don’t want you to see me as a monster, but it’s hard when you keep sneaking a glance.”

“I’m curious. I was forced to marry a stranger, I want to get to know him.”

“Do you have to get to know me by pushing my buttons?”

She looks away. “No.”

“Then can we come up with another method?”

Rey throws her leg over his hip. “Roll over, I want to be the big spoon.”

“Enjoy riding me that much earlier?”

“Shut up.” She nips his shoulder. “You’re shedding again.”

“So we’ll change the sheets in the morning.” He takes one of her hands to his lips and nips her back. “I’m sure they’ve had pets stay here before.”

“Pets, maybe. Emperors who turn into pets, unlikely.”

“ _Pet_.” He snorts, pulling her arms tighter around his chest. “I’m insulted.”

She rolls her eyes and presses closer to his back. With a soft kiss to his shoulder, she soon finds herself nodding off. Not before he does, though, his snoring louder than thunder.

Predictable.


	18. Fissures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His scars were like constellations, pale starbursts on his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, back to the regular program

"And what’s this one from?”

He lay on his stomach, bare back exposed to her curious hands. Rey sat beside him, the growing starlight outlining her shape whenever he peeked a look. She had been dressing his newest wound, a long red slash that ran from his shoulder blade to his tailbone. Easily distracted, her attention shifted to the numerous scars marking his body.

“Which one?”

She traced a curve over his ribs that snaked down his back. “This one.”

“Nexu. My father tried keeping them for a while, Mom wasn’t too happy after one nicked me.

“This is more than a nick.”

“She wasn’t trying to hurt me; I fell.”

Rey’s hair floated across his skin when she dipped to kiss the thickened tissue. Her fingers wandered to his lower back “This one here is almost maroon.”

“Blaster.”

“It looks nothing like the bolt wound on your chest.”

“That one is from a much bigger weapon.”

She kissed the smaller welt anyway. “I don’t like that you have either of them.”

“Of course you don’t; you don’t like any of my scars.”

“You shouldn’t either.”

But he did. They were signs of power, symbols of his strength. What could be said of an emperor who stayed put in his war rooms? Who never saw battle with his army? A coward. He would not be seen as weakling, a milksop who hid from the crueler aspects of his reign.

“They show that I can protect you. You’ve married a powerful man, my dear.”

“I was coerced into marrying an emperor who wears blood streaked in his hair as a decoration. Who originally said I should take a lover and leave until we had to grow a child in a glass tube together.” Her words had bite, but she said them with a small smirk

“I never coerced you.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

He rolled onto his back and winced, fresh laceration burning at the pressure. Damn it all. “Would you have wanted to stay in forced prostitution? Was that ever an option you’d take?”

She looked away. “No.”

“And I gave you the option to do as you pleased, to look at the arrangement as nothing but a contract that got you out of such an awful situation, the only thing you owed me an egg in years to follow. That was it.”

“I just feel…cheated out of getting to pick a partner.”

“You were just kissing my scars.”

“I was.”

“You weasel your way into my bed most nights. You tell me which clothes you think I look best in. You won’t let me leave without a shower of kisses nowadays. Are you unhappy to have me?”

“No.” Unsurprisingly, she leaned in to kiss him. “You make me happy. You frighten the hell out of me, but I don’t think I’d be happy elsewhere.”

He’d like to tell her that he loved her, but the words never made it from his chest and to his tongue. He’d been thinking them for months and he still had yet to voice the short sentence. “I know I wouldn’t be happy without you. Hey,” he wiped a tear as it rolled down her cheek. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“I really hate seeing you so beat up.” She brushed his hand away. “I know I’ve said it before, but I just want you to be more careful. I don’t want you coming home in pieces.”

“This was an anomaly. I was being careful this time.” He kissed her forehead. “I did take your request to heart.” Gingerly, he took her hands in his, bringing them to his lips. She had scars that wrapped around wrists, white rings of past abuse. “What are these from?”

“Being bound together.”

He traced a pock mark of reddish flesh. “And this one?”

“Burned with a poker. I misbehaved.”

She lay back on the sheets when he nudged her down, following to kiss a white streak that cut near her ear. “This looks intended.”

“A few of the other girls cut me because I was pretty.”

His heart bled for her. His blood boiled. A darkness rose like a tidal wave in his bones.

She put a hand on his cheek. “Do not hunt them down.”

“They hurt you.”

“Kylo. Please.”

Burying his face in her neck, he let out a frustrated growl. “I don’t want you to hurt. Or ache.”

“Do you understand why I’m so frustrated with you then? I don’t want you injured or wounded either. And I don’t want you injuring or wounding anyone else for my sake.”

“What if I end up back on Jakku—“

“Kylo, when are you ever going to set foot on Jakku?”

“Fine.” He rose to kiss her, savoring her tenderness. “Be safe and I’ve no reason to seek reparations.”

She ran her finger down the long dark red line that cut his face in two. “What’s this one from?”

He failed to bite back a smile. “You saw it when it was fresh, sweetheart.”

“Humor me. I have questions about a bunch of your scars.”

“I got sliced while defending my men.”

“My husband, the brave idiot.” Her lips were soft against his numb skin. Her fingers grazed the massive starburst of his second blaster bolt wound. “And this one?”


	19. Carnal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I'm not sayin dom!kylo possessive ass emperor but I'm sayin dom!kylo possessive ass emperor

“What have I  _said?”_ Anger was hot in his bloodstream, fire quaking up his legs, lancing rage through his chest. It fizzled at the sight of her fear, her wide doe’s eyes, the way she held her arms in front of her. His voice came out broken. “What have I said?”

“You never took it back.” She wiped at a tear as it fell. “I need things, Kylo. I’m not like you, I can’t just bottle all my frustration up and never release it. If you won’t give me what I want, what I  _need,_  I have to go elsewhere.”

He deflated, falling back against the wall.

“You said I could take lovers.”

“That was before you meant anything.” He sighed, kicking himself. This was his fault. “I thought you loved me?”

“I do.”

“Then why—“

“Because it’s been two years and you shy away from me. You won’t let me touch you. I’ve never even  _seen_  you naked. I need things, Kylo. My toys can only be satisfying for so long.”

He couldn’t face her, ashamed of himself, disgusted by what she’d done. She was within her right, but it still stung. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

“I thought I’d get shot down, like I have every single other time I’ve posed the question.” She scowled. “This is because you’re  _jealous_ , isn’t it?”

“No.”

“It is.” She stepped closer, sneering. “You were never going to be my first. That was robbed from you when I was fifteen. Whatever you’re searching for with me, some golden trophy, it’s not there. You’re just  _jealous_  because you can’t perform for me. You’re a virgin, Kylo. You’re not going to be good.”

His rage flared and he took her hips in a fearsome grip. “I’ll be the best you’ll ever have.”

She snapped her teeth. “Prove it.”

It wasn’t a kiss so much as a power struggle. He swatted her hands away when they reached for him, pulling them down in a forceful grip. She was all teeth, her own irritability seeping from her skin onto his. He broke them apart and yanked her into his bedroom, throwing her down on the mattress. He couldn’t picture the look in his eyes, only saw the uneasiness it brought onto her features.

He knew enough about this act to have a general idea of what to do. Their clothes came off in a flurry and he locked her in the middle of the bed, his knees on either side of her hips. She swallowed, fear turning to bewilderment.

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve had someone your size.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

He dragged his teeth down the column of her neck, sucking red spots on her pale skin. They’d done this much before and he knew how to get her breath to catch. He was too rough, drew blood, left a trail of teeth marks where he went. She jerked when he bit her breast, the sensation jolting white and molten down her nerves.

She held him to her chest when his mouth grew gentler. Her voice was airy, mumbled  _Kylo_ s and  _pleases_  spilling from her bruised lips. 

“Please  _what_ ,” he growled, hands too hard and digging against her body.

“I need you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said with a glare, still angry. Still terribly enraged she’d gone and slept with another after saying she belonged to him.

“Asshole.”

She shrieked when he entered her, clawing red lines down his back. Sucking in a breath, her body steadied and she tried to lace her fingers into his hair. She was met with snaps of his jaw, bites down her hands, a low growl in his chest. 

“Don’t touch me.”

His pace was too quick and she was unable to rock with him. He fell onto his elbows, the sensation of her heat almost too much to handle, too much to comprehend. He wanted to last longer, to not lose himself in the wonder of her body just yet. 

“You’re mine,” he snarled with a nip to her neck. “Unequivocally mine.”

He sat up and unsheathed himself, taking a sick pleasure in how needy she seemed without him to fill her up. Flipping around, he dragged her ass into the air, pushed her head into the pillows. Entering her again was just as heady as the first time. He hoped it would always feel this fantastic, so perfect.

“You belong to me.” He snapped his hips and she moved to meet him.

“I’m yours,” she said softly, seeking out his hand. He let her lace their fingers, to press her drowsy fullness to his side of their force bond. She helped his other hand on her clit, showing him how to press and roll against her body. Her climax was shattering, her body pulsing around him, her toes curling, his name leaving her throat in two short strangled, needy, breathy syllables.

He came soon after to her words of encouragement, to  _that’s it, fuck, Kylo, just like that, please. I’m yours._

Spent, exhausted, and sweaty, he collapsed beside her in the sheets. It took a few moments for his lungs to steady, for his mind to catch up to his body.

“That’s exactly what I need,” she said softly, her leg thrown over his hip. “Exactly that, at least five times a week. Preferably more, but I understand if you don’t—“

“Six times, bare minimum.”

Her smile warmed his chest, put a blush on his cheeks. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“Was it good?” He nuzzled into her, wanting to hear her heartbeat.

“It was.” She kissed his forehead. “I never expected less from you.”

“But you taunted me.”

“Would you have done that with as much ferocity if I hadn’t? I know which of your buttons to push to get what I want.”

She’d played him.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t mad. Awed, but not even slightly angry.

“If it gets you in my bed, please push my buttons more often.”


	20. Bedmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for Renperor! In one of your recent chapters, Kylo mentions how rey has "weasels" her way into his bed most nights... maybe a series of scenes/vignettes over time in which she ends up in his bed?

He had begun to wake up to a heat source more nights than not. Once used to sleeping spread out across his mattress, he was discovering he now slept in a ball, another body fit neatly into his arms.

The first time it happened, it startled him into a panic. He woke ready to choke the life out of an intruder, only to be greeted by the sleepiness of her voice.

“Sorry,” she’d said, “but I had a nightmare. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

With a relieved sigh, he slumped back into the pillows, too tired to argue with her or tell her off. He felt vulnerable and confused with her in his space, but he wanted to get closer to her, to know her, and maybe letting her stay would help. She was gone in the morning, however, and she didn’t bring up the visit over breakfast. Neither did he.

It was another two weeks before it happened again, three nights in succession. The first time she woke him to ask permission. The second time, he was still up and offered her the other side of the bed, promising he wouldn’t be reading much longer. The third, he was awakened by her curling up close to his chest, apologizing, her voice on the brink of tears.

He brought his arms around her, held her closer. His fingers ran softly through her hair until her fear subsided and she ceased to tremble. When she looked up at him, he moved to kiss her, having missed the sensation. “Is everything all right?”

“I dreamt I lost you,” she said softly before stealing a second kiss. “It’s always grueling, the way you get taken from me. This time there was so much blood.”

“I’m safe, and so are you.”

“Please don’t go with them on the campaign. I know you feel the need to prove you’re a tyrant in battle as well, but the Force has been showing my the consequences.”

“I shouldn’t stay here if my armies need me.”

“Kylo, please. I can’t lose you.”

She wouldn’t be calm if he said no, and it was possible there was truth to her visions. He didn’t want to lose her either. “I’ll stay, but you don’t have to sneak in at night. Why not just ask before bed?”

“I didn’t know I could.”

What sort of boundaries had he put up that she didn’t think she was allowed the regular comforts of a marriage?

Rey rolled her eyes, listening to his thoughts over their bond. “Your whole opening speech when you took me from Jakku make it clear you weren’t interested.”

“I’m changing my mind. Stay when you like, you have my permission. But you have to promise not to hog all the covers like you’ve been doing.”

With a small smile, she gave him a peck on the cheek. “I promise.”


End file.
